


On King and Country

by CharlieMcarthy



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Platonic!casteshipping, Puzzleshipping, bc i am an artist not a writer but writing is fun sometimes, theres art of this on my tumblr art blog that is better than this story, this is supposed to be a story in 4 parts but idfk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMcarthy/pseuds/CharlieMcarthy
Summary: The trouble with being a God is that you’ve got no one to pray to.Author’s Comments: Post!DSOD events. Bakura is mildly reformed and living with Atem in the Afterlife. Platonic!casteshipping, puzzleshipping, thirsty af Kaiba who hides his True Feelings behind a fucking card game bc he never learned to share as a child. If you're into redemption fics, then have I gotta story for you...





	1. Part I: The Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> While I've rp-ed a ton of YGO lately this fanfic is a mess and a jumble of that and most of my own writing. I doodled what a redemption arc Bakura would like (lot of scars and a gorgeous red coat that melts to purple tbh) and I loved sketching him the Pharaoh so much I finally wrote this up....so forgive my sloppy writing and if you want to see some art of them, check out charlieslowartsies.tumblr.com under the 'YGO' tag.

**Part I: The Afterlife  
**

* * *

 

Like most problems they had gone through only a year ago, it all started with Kaiba.

In retrospect, Atem shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when the man came stalking into his throne room. Kaiba was no taller than before, but a little more built and carried with him his usual sense of self worth that marveled even the mightiest of lions in the savannah. He was vaguely see-through, and his entire appearance at all made Atem’s heart jump to his throat. Not for the reasons Kaiba was hoping for, but that wasn’t Atem’s fault.

And he _definitely_ shouldn’t have been surprised that the only reason the haughty CEO was standing before him was for a duel of all things, his coat flapping lazily in the hot wind of the Egyptian summer.

A duel…

Atem almost felt bad for Kaiba. A duel here was not at all like the dueling they had done with holograms and cards in Domino. They only became a threat when Atem turned them into Shadow Games, and even those held a certain amount of safety in them because the magic was from the power of the Millennium Puzzle. Then of course there was that nasty affair with the 8th Millennium Item, and Diva and the still haunted Ring. That was different though. The monsters here in Ancient Egypt were Spirit Partners, you summoned them with your heart and by doing so anted up your very soul in exchange for their loyalty.

They were living beings alongside you, the magic was powerful, and the danger was every bit as real as the monsters. When Atem called Slifer, the dragon’s roar made the palace stones tremble a bit. Behind Kaiba, his gorgeous dragons hides gleamed and the dragons breathed, the scent of their breath tinted with electricity like the wind on a summer heat storm. One of them broke a pillar by the strength of their attack, but Atem wasn’t paying attention who.

Kaiba’s technology was amazing, Atem would always admit that. But no matter how hard you tried, you could never beat the real thing.

The Games did not last long. The ones where Atem was angry never did.

Kaiba’s monsters faded into nothingness, leaving a thoroughly and soundly beaten man on his knees before the throne. He looked empty, and the haunted smolder of his eyes made even the Pharaoh pause. Then he noticed the odd looking technology coursing with light over the CEO’s body and his irritation bubbled back to the surface. Behind him, a sound like a snake’s hiss could be heard.

“You came here for the wrong reasons, Kaiba.” Atem finally spoke out to the man, but kept his tone sympathetic as he could muster. “This is no place for the Living.”

“Hardly any place for the Dead, really.” Came another voice over Atem’s shoulder. The Pharaoh’s lip quirked as he glanced back at the sound of the thief king’s voice.

His Priests moved, as did the other palace guards, but Atem raised a glittering, gilded hand and stopped them with that single motion. Instead, the Pharaoh inclined his head to the figure in the long red and violet robe that was lounging in his throne, who had plopped his body down the second he had gotten up to duel Kaiba. (His cousin accused him of being a throne stealer. Bakura had testily responded that until they invented heated blankets far be it from him to make his ‘precious pharaoh’ sit on a cold throne. Atem had just snorted into his evening meal in amusement at the two.)

Bakura the Thief King rose into his casual slouch, wandering to stand by the Pharaoh’s side as he waited. Atem addressed Kaiba again.

"Are you satisfied now? You received your duel." It's at least said a little gentler than he had been talking to him during said duel.

 "Kaiba...do you understand yet where you went wrong? Why I'm disappointed with you as I am?"

The man on the ground before him had no answer. His breaths were still coming in deep heaves, and Atem is sure the man won’t be able to travel let alone walk very far. Not for at least a day or more.

"Any friendship we carried has begun to die out, Seto Kaiba. It will be hard to forgive you for endangering so many lives. For up-heaving my very _grave_." A pause. “For risking Yugi’s safety like that.” And there it was. Bakura’s two-toned eyes slide to watch the back of the Pharaoh’s head, but the King pretended not to notice.

“The Puzzle should have stayed buried, Kaiba. Play time…is over.” The final nail in coffin, and his words are enough to make Kaiba’s shoulders jerk as if physically stung by these words.

Now, Bakura moves, because his Pharaoh has turned away and is walking away from his throne.

The Priests know enough not to stop the King, they let him slip down the hall to his chambers and into the darkness. Everyone knows what’s happening now, because it has happened before. Priest Set moves to take over the throne room for the remainder of the Pharaoh’s sudden absence.

“Now see what you’ve done?” Bakura stops by the CEO’s side and lifts him with one arm, giving the shaking figure a dissatisfied grunt. “Do you know how long it took to get him in a good enough mood? I don’t know either, time is an illusion especially down here, you fuck. But one thing’s for sure, I just got him to get up on time almost a whole week and what happens? _You_ show up and all my hard work unravels in the time it takes for him to stand up.”

“Start walking, fool, I’m not going to be carrying you.” Bakura says, when he notices a certain amount of resistance from the beaten man.

“Do you think you’re the worst thing I’ve had to deal with?” Kaiba finally spits up at Bakura. Bakura admits, he’s a little impressed and he shows it by a crook of his brow.

“No.” The Thief King answers without missing a beat, “But I’ll be the last.”

* * *

Bakura drops Kaiba’s useless body off in an empty chamber. He does have the decency to help him on the bed, but aside from that his disinterest is obvious. On purpose he makes it one that’s right near his Pharaoh’s rooms but shuts the massive doors behind him. The damn CEO will be sleeping on that battle for hours, longer if he was the one who cracked that pillar because Atem’s retaliation slammed his body into it by sheer force. There was a lot of commotion and action going on during that fight, but few things escape Bakura’s attention, especially when he’s watching after his King.

Bakura pauses outside Atem’s chamber door, lips pulling into a worried, thoughtful frown. It was likely Atem was shutting out the world again. If he’s on the balcony that opens to the garden below, good. if he’s in his bed, under the thin cream colored sheet, bad. Very bad.

Depression is an interesting devil. Bakura is good at beating it back but he didn’t get that way overnight, not with the way Atem mourned the loss of that kid, that Yugi.

Even his actions in finding Bakura in the dregs of the Styx were due in part to Yugi. Trying to find some way to honor him, to remember him, to have a piece to his past that would bring back memories of Domino and that little gang of nerds the Pharaoh loved so dearly.

Bakura supposes, in some way, he owes Yugi like he owes Atem for coming to save his sorry ass.

The Thief King enters the Pharaoh’s chambers without so much as a knock. And he was right—as much as he likes being right, he hates being right about this—the Pharaoh is under the covers and lying on his side away from the entrance way.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Bakura says, not one to beat around the bush.

“….”

“And I know what you’re not thinking, too.”

“…could you touch him? Was he real?”

“Real as you or me, unfortunately.” Bakura grunts as he closes the doors behind him with a gentle creak. “Can’t believe he managed to do it—I'll give him that. He’s an arrogant sunvabitch but he’s a _smart_ arrogant sunvabitch.”

“Kaiba has always been stubborn, yes.” Atem says back dryly, to the tune of Bakura's snort.

“I wouldn’t know. We didn’t really interact much back then.” Nor was Bakura the most mentally stable either. Truth be told, he just as soon leave his past behind him, and with it leave Zorc, that two-timing fucker. Bakura liked his life here, but he knew Atem was having a harder time letting go. True love did that you, or whatever nonsense it was that kept the man up nights missing that kid.

“I miss Him, Bakura.” Atem speaks to the rest of the room, not even facing the thief as he nears the King’s bed. “It hurts.”

The Pharaoh still couldn’t say his name, not even on his best days. It was always ‘Him.’ Only a few of the Priests even knew who ‘He’ was. Bakura of course, knew right away the moment he noticed one day the Pharaoh seemed unable to get out of his bed.

“You said the kid looked good when you saw him.” Bakura tries, he does. But deep down, he knows that something has given way in his King. His Pharaoh was a strong, powerful force that was old as the stars.

Stars died out too, though.

“He did, yes.” Atem agrees, but the heaviness of his deep voice is almost too much for even Bakura to bare. “He looked so much…older. Mature, strong, loving as ever…He has grown up, Bakura.” _‘Without me._ ’ The unspoken words between them in the large, open room of the Pharaoh’s chambers.

“It had to happen.” The comment taste bitter on the thief king’s forked tongue.

“So everyone has told me. _Many_ times.” Atem says, sounding vaguely annoyed. Bakura’s just glad to hear a new inflection besides heartbreaking depression coming from those fine lips.

The Thief King sits besides his King on the massive bed, watching the man sit up. The chain of the puzzle chinks in protest, and it reminds Bakura of his own Ring. Mahado carried it now, but the fact that there was another one that showed up in Domino a few months ago worried Bakura enough that he had considered trying to find a way back to the Present day himself. He had discarded it of course, because he was sure it was impossible to find a way back now and he certainly never brought it up to his King.

 That was, until Kaiba had shown up. A door worked both ways, didn’t it?

“If it can be done, my friend…” Atem’s words break Bakura from his thoughts and he turns to look at those red eyes. They’re darker than usual, which isn’t a good sign. Almost…dull, like an unpolished ruby. Bakura feels a sting of anger toward that meddling CEO, but focuses on Atem to keep his anger from getting control of him. The eye of Horus hanging round his neck did most of the work, thankfully.

“If _what_ can be done?” Because Bakura wants Atem to say it for himself, to face the reality of what it is he thinks he's suggesting.

“If…returning to the Present, to—to our friends—“ Atem’s throat sounds like its getting tighter, and he finally drags his gaze to fix it onto Bakura’s two-toned eyes. One of them is the color he’s always had, that shiny muted silver that is almost purple—and then his left one, which was now the same red as the Pharaoh’s own eyes.

“Let me stop you there. They’re _your_ friends, Pharaoh.” Bakura reminds calmly but firmly. “You and I both know I won’t exactly be welcomed back with a parade like you would. Ryou alone, I don’t even want to think about the shit I put that poor thing through. Kid would prolly try to set me on fire or somethin’, I don’t know.”

“That can be remedied—and I can talk with Ryou but, the point is…if there _is_ a way to return…”

“If you’re asking me to come with you, you can save your breath, you dolt.” Bakura cut him off with a look and his words, smirking when the Pharaoh looked surprised for a second. He really feared not having Bakura there with him? Well, if that didn’t give the thief king one good ego boost.

“I followed you this far. And I fucking meant what I said that day you shoved my heart back into my chest,” He jabs his finger at the clump of scar tissue over his left breast. “I’m going with you. Osiris knows your useless half the time anyway, because you insist on playing hero.”

“Says the man who has taken arrows for me.”

“Next time move when I tell you to, and there won’t be a problem.” Bakura muttered right back, arms folded. They loosened—as did the rest of his posture, when he noticed the faraway look creep back into his Pharaoh’s eyes again.  

“You really are going to, aren’t you?” Bakura asks, one final time.

“I want to try.” Bakura watches the man’s elegant hands twist into tight, tense fists. “I _have_ to try.”

“You spent over five thousand years getting to this point, you know.” Bakura’s tone isn’t cruel, but it is carefully blank and warning. “You think your Gods are going to let you give that up so easily? Without _you_ giving something up in return?”

“I have already lost Him, Bakura.” Atem’s voice is raw and little more than a whisper. “Aside from you, and my Priests, what else do I have? And the Gods would only punish _me_ , not any of you.”

“Alright.” The man sighs, letting the King lean his weight on him a little more, finally showing how tired that duel made him. Bakura supports Atem, and not just physically. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, my friend…”

Bakura is a good Thief; at least he likes to think so. There isn’t anything he can’t steal. And if his Pharaoh wants more Time with Yugi Motou, then it will be Time Bakura steals.

He owes Atem that much.


	2. The Cobra and the Hawk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Comment: If you do NOT see ‘Part X’ then the story has gone into a flashback of when Atem went to find Bakura.

**The Edges of Duat, the Underworld, Midday**

Let us consider the cobra and the hawk.

Two powerful, considerably deadly, and rather elegant creatures at first glance. Of course, only one can fly and flying is considered the greatest freedom of all—but the cobra has a certain amount of flair and stubbornness. The type that comes from knowing you were once much bigger and maybe had limbs to crawl and leap and perhaps, even _fly_. Cobras carried a sense of self that rivaled their flying cousins.

The hawk can get closer to the Sun God. But it is the cobra that is in fact, the symbol of the Pharaoh. Why the cobra?

It is a question worth asking, because the answer involves a very interesting story of a Pharaoh who learned to give forgiveness and of a man who, by and large, wasn’t considered someone worth forgiving _at_ _all_.

But he was given it. And it happened. And so that’s where our story begins.

Atem always had a slight fondness for cobras. Of course, he would have called them _Ureaus_ when addressing the ones designed in his palace and headdresses. The _Ureaus_ was the stylized symbol of the rearing cobra, the protector of Kings and the Divine authority in Egypt.

So here Pharaoh Atem— _Yami, the Other Yugi, the Man with Two Shadows_ — stands in Duat, his puzzle shimmering softly in the Holy Light of Ra’s spread wings. There, up higher than the wind the God flies, poised in mid air and lighting the worlds with its rays. Ammit stands at her towering height before the Pharaoh, her head turning slowly to fix a single, terrible reptilian eye on the King.

“I have come to ask you a favor, _Great of Death_.”

She does not roar, so he takes it as an opportunity to go on.

“There is a…Heart. That I am seeking…I ask you to grant it my protection and my responsibility…and if you deny me, I will ask no more.” It was always good to promise things to the Gods when asking a favor, especially things like not pestering them more than once. Especially promising that. Gods had a certain distaste for those who could not take ‘no’ for an answer. Atem was aware of Ammit shifting subtlety, her large body finding a more comfortable pose. High above, Ra circled overhead lazily, rather like a hawk. The God would only wheel off to the West when it was time for nightfall. Ra’s presence told Atem that back at his palace in his new home, it was only midday or so.

There was a great groaning of metal, and suddenly, the Scales of Justice lowered on one side. Atem swallowed, realizing what Ammit was telling him. Anubis was not here, because Anubis was not needed. The Goddess wanted to see for herself before deciding.

Closing his eyes, thinking of what _He_ would do in a situation like this, Atem removed his puzzle, and placed it on the scale. On the other side of the Scales, a single feather appeared. The scales began to slide, as Atem and Ammit watched.

A question for you to consider: Do Gods answer all prayers?

Yes.

Sometimes the answer is No.


	3. Part II: The Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. It’s hard planning the motion of this story, but moving right along, eh? I've decided to upload two chapters each time--which slows down the time between uploads but also ensures I cover my bases better. Especially with the flashbacks, like the one you just read. Enjoy~

**Part II: The Afterlife**

* * *

 Atem had spent 5000 years in the darkness of the puzzle. Approximately 60,000 months. About 1,825,000 days.

And his days, endless and eternal as they felt, were spent much the same way. Because somewhere around the 2000th year or so, his demons began to grow tired of haunting a shell of a man (his anger would come later,) and he was left in miserable, mind-numbing silence.

This was almost worse than the constant torture, screams, and general horrific actions being piled upon him in endless waves of rage and hate.

Almost.

The puzzle at least had the decency to grant his soul room a bed, in which he began lay in for hours. Well, as much as he could assume were hours. Perhaps it was days, or even months. The puzzle granted him many things, but a clock was not among them.

He had spent 5,000 years in the puzzle—and Atem shuddered to know how much of it was actually just spent lying in his bed slowly slipping into the mad, wrathful spirit that his partner would release eventually.

Now because of this, Pharaoh Atem, or Yami, or the Nameless Pharaoh, is no longer an early riser. Especially on days when he misses his other half so much that he feels as if he were back in the puzzle’s confines. The weight is crushing and absolute, and he finds he cannot get out of his royal bed when the Sun God emerges from his own. What, he wonders silently, is the point? Yugi is not here. Atem is no King, not anymore. Perhaps a King of Darkness and Justice and yes, perhaps a King of Madness. With his crown of bones and bloodied fingers and devil’s smirk, he is a sorry excuse for a King now. Especially here in the glittering golden world of his own Time. All the people he played Games with, wielding his Shadow Games like arrows and firing them into souls who perhaps _could_ have been helped had he left more than piles of ash behind—a Game played upon sheets of ice, setting the loser on fire? What _had_ he been thinking?!—and all of them slaughtered like lambs for the evening meal in the name of a young boy whose only request to the puzzle was:

_“Friends who I can count on! Friends who can count on me!”_

The Millennium Puzzle had granted the wish, he supposed sullenly. The wish no longer included Atem as a Friend to Yugi, or perhaps it had never been the Puzzle’s intentions at all. And that stung most of all, worse than a nettle in the palm.

And what of Atem’s wish? To find his memories. His name. His sense of Self. Surely, he had told himself so many sleepless nights while Yugi’s soul dreamed cotton candy thoughts, surely he, the Other Yugi was not _just_ the Other Yugi. That he had a history, a past, and that it would point to his future.

Well, it had. And it did.

And now here he was. Stuck in the Afterlife, losing a fighting battle to a case of Depression so somber he wished desperately for some medication from the year Yugi was living in. He could drown his sorrows with wine, but that reminded Atem too much of Jounouchi’s father and soured the thought. He could distract himself with Games, but with Seto Kaiba’s abrupt and jarring arrival the last hiding spot in his mind Atem had was gone in the time it took for Slifer to blast the Blue-Eyes White Dragon back into the Monster World.

This is what Atem wanted, and yet he wants his Other Self so much more now.

Unsurprisingly, these terrible thoughts of loneliness followed by crippling self-hatred for being so utterly Fickle do little to urge him from his chambers any faster.

Ra’s winged light trickles over the horizon, and yawns toward the palace walls over the hours.

Atem finds himself the next morning staring at the ceiling. His heart is heavy, his limbs worse so. He knows that is it nearly midday, but he finds he does not care.

His is Pharaoh. He is God.

No one would dare tell him what to do. At best, only make mild, soft-spoken suggestions as if to keep him appeased and happy.

“Get yer royal ass out of bed, you damn fool.” And then, of course, there is the Thief King Bakura.

The Thief King is carrying a platter, one of the servant’s many trays. Likely, Bakura didn’t ask for the tray, nor the fresh, sweet smelling food upon it. The thief could steal thunder and make you believe there had only ever been lightning during a storm.

The sheet is ripped from his naked body and the King flinches at the sudden chill.

“Since when is laying around ever cured someone of depression?” Bakura snapped.

“ _Bakura_ ,” Atem hisses, rolling over to maintain some decency, but his heart isn’t in it. “I am not. Depressed.”

“Yeah, you are just a _perfect beacon of_ _shining_ mental health. Look at this—this room is a mess, too! What kind of King leaves his games lying on the floor?” The thief grunted as he stepped over a senet board. Kaiba is here for half a day and Atem’s gone off the deep end.

“ _He_ did.”

Bakura pauses, frowning at the mention of the man’s lost other half.

“…well, Motou lived inna time where you could go down the street and buy a new chess set if the pieces got busted. Round here it takes _months_ for those artists of yours to carve a set, so stop leaving your shit everywhere.”

Atem grunts in response, but the silence means Bakura is right, and Atem knows it.

“Listen, Atty.” Now, Bakura’s tone is softer, gentler. Like the ripples of the Nile when she is in a good mood and not swollen from her tides.

“Eat summa this, yeah? I don’t know whose bright idea it was, to make the Afterlife a place where _food is still a_ _requirement_ , but it is. And you need your energy. Especially if we’re going to make any ground on getting your royal butt back to Domino.”

Atem casts the man a look of surprise, though it is little more than a widening of his pretty scarlet eyes.

Kura only jabs a finger at the tray of food he brought the King.

“C’mon. Get the fuck up, buttercup. While you do that, and your lil servants scramble around tending and cleaning this disaster area of a chamber up, _I’m_ going to have a talk with our guest.”

Atem wonders to himself—this a common thought—what Bakura does when he not with him. Rarely is he not the Pharaoh’s sarcastic, temperamental shadow, but when he is gone…well. Atem wonders. Part of him wants no part in knowing where Bakura wanders off to and what he does.

“Is he awake yet?” Atem asks, shifting an arm under his torso and sitting up gingerly. His body creaks in protest, but the food smells wonderful, and Bakura is giving him a wondrous feeling. Hope. _He could see Yugi again._

“Not sure.” Bakura swiped an apple from the tray as he strode for the door. “Don’t care.”

It’s difficult, to bite apples with the size of the fangs he carries, but it helps they fold back so his more… _human_ teeth can do the job.

Bakura leaves Atem’s room, and it is only a few minutes later the Pharaoh rises sluggishly from his bed, and reaches for the honey bread his thief brought for him.


End file.
